


Not Enough

by chelsea_bun



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dream Reading?, Dreams, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M, Mind Reading, Mutual Pining, Restraints, Sappy Charles, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 04:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelsea_bun/pseuds/chelsea_bun
Summary: "Charles choked in surprise and at the sudden realisation that struck him; Charles’ dreams the past few nights weren’t actually his, but Erik’s. Erik must have been projecting, and in Charles’ exhaustion and longing he hadn’t put up barriers to protect himself from wandering thoughts. Charles should tell him, admit what happened. It was no one’s fault, just an honest mistake. But that longing part of him, that portion of himself that he tried fervently to keep in check, willed him to wait, to hold on to this for a while longer."Erik is healing and Charles doesn't want to push for intimacy. But then he accidentally stumbles upon a loophole; Erik's dreams.





	Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brilliantdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliantdreams/gifts).



> I found this in my google docs. I think it was the first Cherik fic I attempted to write. Charles is definitely a lot more sappy than how I write him now.

From his office, Charles watched a grey figure on the lawn outside break into a run. Despite the distance, Charles marvelled at the individual until he was just a speck on the horizon. He sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose.

This was the only way he could have Erik; spying through windows, stolen glances at the dinner table, a stare over a chess board under the pretence of “concentrating”.  Charles longed for more; for just a second longer to look upon his face, for an extra opportunity to encouragingly clasp his shoulder, for one brief moment inside that glorious mind of his. But Charles knew how selfish that would be; to push someone so equally vulnerable and guarded. 

So he kept his yearning scrutiny short, his touches fleeting, and his mental guards firm. Gazing through windows had to be enough. 

  
  


The mansion, once desolate and cold, was now full of laughter and optimism. Even during the small hours of the morning, the manor was alive with snuffled breathing and fatigued sounds of sleep. 

Charles always struggled to sleep at this time; kept awake in his early years by his family’s incessant thoughts and dreams, and his later years were filled with late night research and the occasional party. It was a habit now to curl up with a book and wait for the darkest part of the night to pass, to listen out for any signs of distress from the children, ready to soothe them with calming thoughts if necessary. 

When the tossing of the children ceased and ebony crept away from the first signs of dawn, Charles collapsed, too tired to mark his place in his book. Before unconsciousness beckoned, he gifted himself with one final thought of Erik, and then slept. 

  
  


_ Mud. A thin hand clasped in his. A scream. The strain of metal. The taste of iron. _

Charles jerked violently awake. Remnants of his dream left a thin veil of sweat on his skin. He rolled his shoulders back, unlocking his muscles one by one. He dragged a shaking hand through his ruffled hair. Charles rarely dreamt, exhaustion usually dragging him into five blissful hours of nothingness. To dream at all was unusual, this was unnerving. 

He rolled over and did not go back to sleep that night. 

  
  


Charles hands shook slightly as he made coffee that morning; either caused by leftover anxiety from last night’s dream, or from lack of sleep. It was distracting, so much so that he didn’t notice Erik’s arrival until the man was standing right next to him. He startled slightly. Erik, who was reaching for a mug, paused.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Ahh yes, yes, bit sleepy. Fairly busy last night, much to do,” Charles stammered, choking down a mouthful of bitter coffee before looking at Erik.

Charles took his lower lip between his teeth as his eyes raked over Erik’s face. Worry toyed at the edge of Erik’s eyes, in between his eyebrows, and at the corners of his mouth as he contemplated Charles. Charles felt his throat tighten, and his ears redden.

_ One, two, three. _

He turned away. 

He had to be okay, this had to be enough.

Charles placed his mug in the sink and left the kitchen.

  
  


_ A rolling green lawn. Clear skies. A forgotten gun. Blue eyes lined with damp lashes.  _

Charles turned over and reached for his silver watch lying on the oak side table; 5 am. He sat up keeping his movements slow, as if not to scare away the remaining threads of his dream. Confusion knotted his brow together as he considered his latest reverie. 

He had dreamt of himself. 

  
  


The drive home that day was quiet. With the help of cerebro, they had discovered the existence of a mutant, a waitress, living a couple of towns over. She was nice and understanding, but she had a life there; children, a good job. She was no danger to herself or to others.

So Charles and Erik bid her good luck and began their slow journey home. 

Much to Erik’s annoyance, Charles insisted that he should be the one to drive on the way back. Charles claimed that he suddenly had a wild urge to drive and would be sorely disappointed if he had to be the passenger again. Erik stared at Charles as if he had snapped; but in reality, Charles could barely handle the ride here. Three hours of sneaking glances at Erik, and forcing himself to look away and think of anything,  _ anything _ , other than Erik’s striking profile, his strong hands on the wheel, his-

Charles shook his head slightly and focussed on the road ahead. Two more hours.

Erik’s eyes were heavy. He had been staring solemnly out the window, eyeing the dry corn fields in earnest. But his interest was dulling, and his shoulders had started to roll forward, his chin on his hand growing heavier. 

Charles wasn’t surprised. The man was a vessel of ruthless memories; they no doubt plagued him at night. He deserved any bit of solace he could get. Charles risked a second glance at him. Erik’s hair was slightly dishevelled, as if he had been running his hand through it in an effort to stay awake; his cheeks were flushed, and his lips were slightly parted. Charles inhaled sharply, and his pants tightened. 

Charles returned his focus to the road, willing his heart and his body into submission. Erik deserved space, and time, and quiet support to heal, to become stronger. Charles cursed himself for even wanting to deny him that, for only thinking of himself, for wanting-

_ A chilly morning. Spilled coffee. Shaking hands. An urge to reach out and touch the hair curling on the nape of his flushed neck;  _ Charles’ _ neck. _

Charles choked in surprise and at the sudden realisation that struck him; Charles’ dreams the past few nights weren’t actually his, but  _ Erik’s _ . Erik must have been projecting, and in Charles’ exhaustion and longing he hadn’t put up barriers to protect himself from wandering thoughts. 

Erik stirred faintly in his sleep, causing Charles’ heart to race shamefully. Charles should tell him, admit what happened. It was no one’s fault, just an honest mistake. But that longing part of him, that portion of himself that he tried fervently to keep in check, willed him to wait, to hold on to this for a while longer. 

Charles turned back to his sleeping friend and his heart constricted in adoration and longing. He tentatively reached towards him, and without thinking he grazed the back of his fingers along Erik’s jaw. 

Two more hours. 

  
  


Charles convinced himself that passively reading Erik’s dreams was utterly different than willing himself into Erik’s mind, and, therefore, less of an offense. 

So, each night Charles willed himself to wait until that point of near collapse; distracting himself with books and tea and singlehanded chess games until he couldn’t keep his eyes open and his body would shake with tension. And each night Charles would plunge into a sleep deep enough that would lead him to Erik’s dreams. And each morning Charles would wake with plumes of Erik’s psyche lingering and caressing his aching heart.

Most often Erik’s dreams were vicious nightmares; ghosts of his past summoning him with their skeletal fingers; visions of his mother taunting him with what could have been; an incessant compulsion to hurt others like he’d been hurt. After those nights, Charles would wake with damp cheeks and an empty soul; longing to comfort Erik but never reaching out to him in fear of exposing his transgressions. 

But some nights, the nights that left Charles blushing and breathless, Erik dreamt of his life at the mansion; sometimes of the children, but mainly of Charles. Charles didn’t think too hard on it. Erik saw Charles as a friend and a liberator from his bleak past. 

For only brief moments, Charles allowed himself to indulge in those few precious dreams; stupidly allowed himself to believe they could be more.

But most mornings, Charles would sit on the floor of the shower, letting scolding water flow over him until his skin blistered in pain; a meagre punishment to help ease his guilt. 

  
  


“Charles!” Raven barked at him one morning.

“Yes, Raven. God, not so loud,” Charles groaned.

“Have you gone deaf?! I have been trying to get your attention for almost five minutes!”

“Sorry, yes, what is it?”

Raven’s face fell slightly, distress prickling her brow, “I just wanted to know if you were okay. Charles, is something wrong?”

“Raven, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” Charles smiled meekly, patting her shoulder as he brushed past her, a mug of acidic black coffee in his hand. “I’m going up to work. Go have fun, Raven,” he offered weakly.

But Raven had reason for concern, and could see through Charles’ lie. Her brother was pale, his lips wan, hair unsettled, but most worrying were the dark purple roses blossoming under his red rimmed eyes. He was withdrawing from the others and assigning curious training errands with no particular goal. He was slipping.

  
  


Charles’s exhaustion had grown to the point that it no longer stalked him solely at night, but trailed him during the day also. His barriers were significantly weaker and stray thoughts kept filtering through. They ceaselessly barraged him until a headache bloomed at his temple and black and white spots erupted in front of his eyes.

He slumped in his office chair, needling his head with quivering hands. 

“Be quiet,” he begged to himself.

One mind was louder than the others; angry and passionate and tinted with red. Erik. 

Charles groaned, his guilt triggering another pulsating headache. He had to stop, he had seen too much, been too greedy with Erik. He tried to snap his mental barriers back in place; but Erik was projecting too loudly for Charles to deal with in this state. Erik’s emotions were too intense, too heightened. 

Charles gasped as an image flashed behind his eyes. 

_ Charles bent over, long hair falling in front of his face. His pale, freckled shoulders quivering in pleasure as Erik repeatedly entered him. _

Charles coughed, but before he could question what he just saw another vision materialised. 

_ Erik on his knees, strong hands gripping Charles’ thighs, muscular forearms tensing as his head nodded, open mouth taking Charles in him.  _

Charles gaped, crimson licked his face, his trousers tightened, and he barely remembered how to breathe. Erik’s thoughts kept bombarding him, and Charles quickly realised what Erik was doing. What Erik wished was happening instead of what he was doing to himself. 

“Fuck,” he moaned under his breath. 

The visions vanished, leaving Charles reeling with whiplash; his headache coming back in full force. Charles gripped his head and closed his eyes. Suddenly, the house shook. The metal fixtures in his office flexed.

_ “Charles!” _ Someone screamed directly into his mind.

Charles groaned as his vision tunnelled and nausea sluiced through him. 

The door banged open.

“Charles! You were in my head! I heard you –” Erik roared. 

The taller man took in Charles; his ashen face, his trembling shoulders, the purple shadows under red rimmed eyes that were threatening to close.

“Charles,” Erik said hurriedly, rushing to his side of the desk and kneeling in front of him, “what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Go away,” Charles whispered. 

“Let me help you,” Erik reached for his face, his eyes roaming for any possible injury.

“ _ No _ .”

“No?”

“I don’t deserve it,” Charles muttered before exhaustion finally claimed him.

  
  


Charles woke slowly; the open curtains inviting the moon’s dim light into his bedroom. A dull ache nestled into his temple, but overall his head felt marginally lighter. He rolled carefully onto his side, reading the watch on his wrist; 2.30 am. The last thing he remembered was Erik taking Charles into his mouth before immense pain ravaged his mind. 

But surely that wasn’t right.

“Charles,” a voice from the end of his bed echoed throughout the dark room.

Charles flinched. He remembered now. Of course Erik hadn’t held Charles or buried himself in him; they were thoughts, Erik’s private thoughts. And Erik knew that Charles had read them.

“Erik,” his voice shook.

“Explain,” Erik demanded; anger visible in his tense shoulders.

Charles sighed, and began cautiously.

“At first it was an accident, you pulled me into your dreams and I thought they were my own. But after I realised I couldn’t stop,” Charles paused, his throat narrowing and heart pounding, “I didn’t want to stop. Your dreams were a piece of you I could have all to myself, no matter how dark or hopeless, I still craved them, craved…” Charles stopped.

“What about earlier? Those weren’t dreams, Charles,” Erik said to the far wall, still not bothering to look at him.

“I’m sorry, I stopped sleeping, and then I didn’t have the energy to keep out everyone’s thoughts. That’s when I saw –” Charles wrapped his arms around his knees, guilt pressing in on him at all sides.

He’d done it. Pushed the man he cared most for away, the man he swore to himself to help and protect; because Charles was greedy, because he couldn’t be content with stolen glances and staring helplessly through windows. 

“I’m sorry,” a sob erupted from his chest.

“You’re sorry?” Erik finally turned to look at him. “Why did you do it? Why pry into my dreams to the point of your own break down?!”

Charles’ tears were falling freely now, the shame of it coming to a head, “Because,” he started, “because it killed me every day wanting you but never being able to do anything about it! Because no matter how much I tried I couldn’t keep away from you, couldn’t be satisfied with keeping my distance even though I knew it’s what you needed. Because those dreams were the closest thing I had to sharing something intimate with you. Because –”

Erik lurched forward and grabbed the crying man’s collar. His face was merely inches away from Charles’ own, his breath warm against his crying face.

“You’re a fool, Charles,” Erik murmured, before pressing his lips roughly against his. 

Erik’s lips were rough and forceful. One hand remained on Charles’ collar and the other slid up behind him and held the base of his head; fingers intertwining with curling hair. Charles’ mouth parted in surprise, and opened wider as heat coursed through his veins. 

Erik pulled away, and Charles blushed as he involuntarily gasped at Erik’s sudden absence. 

“Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been trying to avoid you,” Erik chagrined. “But you make it so goddamned difficult.”

Erik kissed Charles again before he could respond, and Charles melted into the touch and his fingers gripped Erik’s waist in longing. Erik broke away and began kissing Charles’ still damp cheeks. 

“I wanted to stay away from you, didn’t want an opportunity to ruin another thing in my life,” he whispered as he kissed Charles soft cheeks. “But, God, your eyes,”  _ kiss _ , “and I swear you bite your lip just to torment me,”  _ kiss _ .

Charles breath hitched in his throat as Erik’s mouth moved lower. Erik kissed the underside of his jaw and Charles’ heart skipped; the fingers that gripped Erik’s waist started to pull at him mindlessly. Erik’s mouth responded and he kissed Charles’ neck, sucking gently, his tongue running itself along Charles’ scorching skin. Charles groaned and his head rolled back. Erik wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s torso, pulling him closer. Erik released a guttural moan.

Charles froze, uncurling his fingers from Erik’s waist. 

“Erik,” he began, “Erik, we shouldn’t.”

Erik pulled back slightly, and stared hard into Charles’ eyes, “You said you wanted more;” a question and a statement. 

“I never said I deserved more,” Charles murmured, turning away; his heart wilting. 

A growl sounded in Erik throat as he gripped Charles’ jaw, forcing him to look back at Erik.

“Oh, be quiet,” Erik snarled; his lips mere inches away from Charles’. 

Charles’ eyes widened in surprise, but before he could react, Erik’s tongue traced Charles’ bottom lip; his hold on Charles’ jaw softening, but his eyes still held Charles’ hungrily. Erik’s fingers swept up to Charles’ hair, weaving themselves into brown tresses. Charles melted into the touch, and he freed a soft whimper.

That whimper was Erik’s undoing.

Erik pushed Charles down onto his back, and pressed a fervent kiss into Charles lush lips. One hand held Erik above Charles, the other gripped the smaller man’s thigh, lifting it up and out to make room for Erik’s aching lap. Charles’s heart thudded and he moaned as he felt Erik’s hips buck into his own; Erik’s arousal obsessively pushing against his own prominent pleasure. 

Charles’ back arched, his body going liquid and pliant as Erik’s caresses unwound him. His breathing was laboured, his toes curling in desire; Erik’s name was a prayer on his lips. Charles’s hands roamed Erik’s toned back ravenously, dipping lower until they grasped Erik’s arse and pulled him closer against him. 

Erik hissed, and suddenly Charles’ left hand released him, flying back until it connected with the wrought iron headboard with a clatter. He pulled away from Charles. 

“Erik,” Charles pleaded, struggling against his watch that now bonded him to the headboard. 

With a careless flick of the wrist, Erik secured Charles’ other hand against the headboard. 

“Erik!” Charles said with more vehemence. 

Erik silenced Charles’ protests with a deep kiss, his tongue probing the inside of his mouth, flicking keenly against Charles’ own. Erik’s fingers worked at the buttons on Charles’ shirt until it fell open, exposing Charles’ flushed chest and muscled stomach. Erik’s kisses moved south, nipping at Charles jaw, throat, the sensitive spot where shoulder meets neck; and whatever retort Charles had prepared earlier fled his mind, replaced with keening sounds of lust.

“I need to taste more of you,” Erik said in a low voice, his eyes glazed over. 

Charles mouth fell open; red crawled along his skin; arms strained against bonds; hips ground against air in absentminded longing. 

Erik simply watched; the sight of Charles writhing in wanton need below him had him biting his lip. As much as he wanted to flip Charles over and fuck him then and there, Erik restrained; needing to see more of this side of Charles. 

With deft fingers, Erik had Charles’ pants off in seconds. Charles’s blush spread down his neck and chest as he lay there exposed. Erik smirked, locking eyes with Charles’ as he dipped down and took Charles’ cock into his mouth. Charles’ eyes rolled back as Erik sucked and licked and moaned onto his cock. He strained against the restraints as he writhed in pleasure, and the bite of the metal against his wrists was a delectable juxtaposition. 

Erik could hardly watch. The sight of Charles’ undoing had him throbbing. He undid his belt with his abilities and thrust his hands into his underwear. Erik stroked his own cock roughly, the taste of Charles and his filthy moans spurring him on. 

“Erik,” Charles gasped, “Erik, I’m-“ was Erik’s only warning before Charles came. 

Charles arched his back violently and twisted against the restraints. He convulsed and shuddered and Erik took pleasure in swallowing the taste of him down. He kept Charles in his mouth as he continued to jerk himself off, chasing his own pleasure until he too was coming, the sounds of his release muffled with Charles’ softening cock gagging him. 

Erik pulled away from Charles and crawled up the bed to lay beside him. His eyes were half closed and he peered up at him through long lashes; delirious. Erik kissed his abused lips roughly and Charles could taste himself on Erik’s tongue. 

Erik pulled back, and Charles whimpered. 

“Still not enough for you?” Erik chuckled. “So goddamn difficult.” 

“I don’t think I could ever have enough of you,” Charles murmured as longing and devotion flooded his eyes. 

“And I, you,  _ liebling _ . But, you did have this coming,” Erik sighed. 

Erik stood, doing up his trousers and straightening his shirt. 

“Erik?” Charles questioned. 

“ _ Bis später _ !” And with that, Erik marched out the door. 

“Erik!” Charles yelled pulling against the restraints, “my watch!” 

“Learn to control your abilities and maybe I’ll learn to relax mine!”

 


End file.
